Look After You
by YoureTheNorthernWind
Summary: The only reason she lasted this long was because she was a coward.
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: The genius plot of The Walking dead belongs to Robert Kirkman**

* * *

_I am going to die today._

Taking a deep breath, she closes her eyes and tries to calm herself down. The low growls of the zombies scatter and travel down the desolate hallway on the other side of the metal door she leans against. She slows her heart rate and listens to the sounds that the flesh-eaters create. The worst is the squeaking of shoes against the floor as the dead drag their feet, each stride high-pitched and anxiety inducing. She shivers in her dirty, blue sweatshirt and her black athletic shorts that leave her goose-bump covered legs exposed. Her rough and bony hands shake even though she desperately clings onto an old, discarded box-cutter, her only defense left against the creatures ever since Maria died.

_I am going to die today,_ she repeats to herself.

She licks her chapped lips and tries to forget the gnawing feeling in her stomach. She honestly couldn't remember the last time she had eaten. Was it the day before yesterday? Longer? The last water bottle had been drained this morning and if she didn't go out for supplies, she'd be a goner for sure. But that's how they all died: getting supplies.

She opens her eyes and slowly adjusts to the darkness of the familiar utility closet. The nine-by-seven foot space that used to hold six survivors became vast as people died off. All the other 5 had been taken out the same way: getting food from the hospital's cafeteria only meters down the hall from the tiny closet. Everyone else had volunteered to make the journey; they thought it wouldn't be fair to send the youngest. The girl was 19- only just finished her first year at college. They had thought her youth would have given her the best chance at surviving this goddamned world. The worst part was that she didn't intervene, she didn't step up and say that she would take the risk for their sake. The only reason she lasted this long was because she was a coward.

A faint glow of light peeks through the bottom of the door and illuminates the room enough to see the bare shelves. All of the supplies are gone, just like the people she knew.

_Yeah, today is as good as any to die._

* * *

She holds the box-cutter in her right hand and gently runs her thumb across the blade. Did she even have the guts to take down one of those zombies? Never had she held a real weapon before; she was a city girl- her parents would've went crazy. She had spent her childhood weekends with a Nintendo 64 and her friends, not outside hunting. The only times she had seen a gun was in movies.

_BANG._

The girl's head shoots up. The loud noise erupts into the air again. and again. and again. It becomes continuous.

Gunshots.

Frantically, she adjusts the sleeve of her pathetic weapon to elongate the blade. Another shot is fired, louder and closer than the previous ones. As quietly as she can, she rises to her feet and-

_BANG._

The blade makes a loud clatter as it comes into contact with the concrete floor. "Fucking shit," the girl hisses. She clumsily falls back to the floor and feels the ground for the weapon she dropped. Her heart pounds rapidly against her chest and she swears she can hear each pulse. _No, no, no. This can't be happening now._ Like an idiot, tears begin to fall from her eyes. She had heard about some of the things some people were willing to do to live. By the way this person was firing, it seemed that her time was up.

The hinges of the door screech as the door is thrust open. Bright light irradiates the small room and the girl stops moving, frozen with fear.

"You bit?"

A young man looks down at the figure in front of him with harsh, narrow eyes. His tall, robust frame is clad in jeans and a zipped-up leather jacket, both garments caked in dry blood. In one hand, he holds a large kitchen knife, poised and ready to drive into a skull. In a holster attached to his belt is a handgun. Barrels of shotguns and rifles come out from the backpack slung over his shoulder.

"I'm not infected," she barely whispers. She scrunches her face at the sound of her own, raspy voice. Not only was she found crying, she could hardly get words to come out of her mouth!

"Speak up."

"I-I'm not infected," she stammers with urgency. Her hands shake as she lifts them up in front of herself in surrender. She nods her head, motioning towards the man's weapon. "You gonna kill me?"

Silence fills the air as the dark eyes of the man glaze over; he's contemplating it. Thoughts of killing the other flood both of their minds. The man brings his right hand to rest on the handle of the handgun. The man's shadow grows larger as he looks down at the girl, gazing at her petrified eyes. In a breath of a second, the box-cutter is back in the hands of the girl and she pulls her arm back to strike.

There's a satisfying sound as the steel lodges into the flesh. She pulls the blade out and pounds it back in to hear the noise repeated until she's content. Panting, she sits on the still body and wipes her face on the sleeve of her sweatshirt.

"You've got some blood on your face." She can feel it, the sticky liquid coats her like another layer of skin.

She turns her head to the voice. "You still...thinking of killing me?"

Using the toe of his black combat boots, he kicks the mutilated face of the fallen zombie. He shakes his head and lowers the knife. "You're alone."

She gradually rises and leans herself against the frame of the closet door. "Yeah," she heaves. "I am."

"And judging by your appearance, I'm guessing there's no food in that cafeteria." He points down the hall. She glares at him from under her eyelashes and blows stray strands of black hair out of her face. "You look...hungry."

"Starving. I think the word you're looking for is starving." She spits on her hands and scrubs at the blood on her cheeks. "There's probably more zombies in there than food. If it was easy, I wouldn't be in this situation."

He sighs heavily and throws his arms up in exasperation."Then I came down this fucking wing for nothing." He fishes into his front pants pocket and pulls out a bloody handkerchief, quickly offering it to the grimy girl. When she refuses it, he throws it at her. Annoyed, she catches the material before it can hit the ground and stubbornly cleans her face.

"Sorry for the disappointment," she mutters sarcastically, each word coated in bitterness. "You've only just drawn all the remaining zombies in this hospital to my hideout. Thanks so much." Her arms dramatically gesture towards the trail of dead zombies he had made earlier. "Have fun on your way out." Taken back, he furrows his brow and shakes his head. The man walks into the utility closet and speedily returns, shouldering a black messenger bag. She eyes him suspiciously. "What are you doing with my stuff?"

He grabs the girl by her upper arm and forces her to stand straight. "I'm not leaving you here to die."

* * *

**Hello! I know this first chapter was pretty rough but I really do hope you found it somewhat interesting. It's been a while since I've actually written something so please bear with me! I'm pretty sure you all found this story kinda weird so far(I mean, I haven't even mentioned the names of the two characters). I promise, promise, promise that this story will make more sense and hopefully become more entertaining for you! Please continue on with reading this story! Feel free to make me smile by leaving a review and telling me what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

The two survivors run down the winding hall of the north hospital wing. Panels and wires of broken overhead fluorescent lights sway and creak off of the ceiling. Aged blood is splattered across the walls, telling the stories of the lives ended. Bodies clad in bloodied scrubs and lab coats writhe on the hard, porcelain floor, clawing at the living as they pass. The man leads the duo with one hand grasping onto the girl's arm, the other over his handgun. The girl tries to keep up but stumbles over her own feet. (it must have been months since the last time she was out of that utility closet). They turn a corner and the girl stops in her tracks. They're in the glass walkway of the building, suspended in the air on the second floor above the hospital's courtyard. Below them are zombies, scattered and bunched up in different places all around the open area.

"Goddammit," the man swears under his breath. The girl looks back and finds a number of zombies accumulated from where thy had come from. She clenches her fists and realizes the lack of weapon in her possession; she had left the box cutter lodged in a zombie's skull.

"Run!" she cries, pulling her companion away from the creatures. The man stands his ground and stares out towards the courtyard. "What are you doing?" she wails, tugging at his arm with what little strength she has left. "We have to-" she pants. "-go!"

He shakes his head and readies his handgun. "We can't, okay? That's the way I came from and I barely made it out the first time." He digs into one of the bags and hands the girl the kitchen knife. "We're fucking trapped and I'm not about to go down without a fight."

With quivering fingers, she takes the knife and stares at it. Her head shakes vigorously as she scans the red speckled blade. "I can't- I can't do this."

"You _have_ to do this."

"I can't! Please-" The zombies stalk closer.

"I just saw you kill one of those things! You can-"

"_Please_," she's begging now. "Don't make me do it again. Please...please."

_Click._ The man points the gun at the girl's face. Her eyes widen as the man's eyes narrow. She drops the knife and her mouth hangs in shock. There's no hesitance present in the man's expression, no sense of bluff in his features. His index finger hovers mercilessly over the trigger.

His arm swings to the left and a bullet shatters the glass, creating a rain of broken fragments below. Zombies all around stop and turn to the noise. The chilly wind blows in through the opening and bites at the girl's exposed skin. The man takes the bags off of his back and throws them out of the impromptu exit, a _thump_ audible as they hit the ground. By her underarms, he pulls the girl up, pushing her over the guard railings of the walkway and in front of the broken glass. "You're gonna have to trust me."

The zombies in the courtyard begin to swarm towards them. The girl looks down and her stomach immediately sinks: the drop had to be at least 20 feet. She tightly clasps onto the sleeves of the man's leather jacket and nods. Quickly, he scoops her up into his arms and takes the leap.

For a moment, she feels weightless. A strong gust pushes against her frame but she feels light. _Numb. _But the moment quickly passes, pain -_a searing pain_- replaces it. The wind is knocked out of her once her and the man hit the ground. She's lies on top of him as both try to regain their breath. The skin of her legs from the knee down to her bare feet burn in agony. The knuckles of her hands are warm and sting. She felt as though every inch of her body was being stabbed and squished and and beaten and burned.

The man scrambles to his feet, bringing the girl up with him. He shoulders the bag of guns back on while the girl claims her own bag and slings the strap across her body. They both study each other: broken glass wedged everywhere into their flesh, blood seeping through their tattered clothing, and deep gashes on their dirty skin. The man eyes the girl's crimson-painted feet; she stands in a small pool of her own blood. She stares straight ahead past the man, doe-wide eyes looking at nothing in particular. He couldn't tell what consumed the person before him more: pain or fear.

"Hey!" He snaps the girl out of her trance. Looking her dead in the eye, he lowers his voice but keeps it firm: "I'm gonna get us out of this. Alive. You hear me?" He pushes her behind him and shoots the incoming zombies. "Do you hear me?" He barely catches the word 'yes.'

He shoots down every single one of the biters in his path, only slowing to reload every so often. She watches as bodies fall left and right, some falling onto the beds of flowers and shrubs planted in the space. She thinks it's somewhat nice to think it was their last resting place. Only until halfway through the courtyard does the girl realize where the man is leading her.

"Why are we going this way?" she uneasily inquires. The grip on her arm loosens as the man trails his fingers down the girl's forearm, catching the girl's hand in his. The girl notices the way the man's palm envelopes hers and begins to pull away. His strong grasp stops her.

"My car," he begins. "It's parked at the east entrance." He continues to shoot at the zombies until they reach a door. Planks of wood, no doubt used to seal the barrier, are torn to shreds and scattered all over. The door shows heavy evidence of abuse.

"Why would you park there?" she skeptically questions.

The man yanks the door out wider and readies his weapon. "I didn't have my badge to get into the parking structure."

The two step into the hospital's children's Wing.

* * *

"Can you see anything?"

They walk down the hall; the only light guiding them come from the door they had emerged from numerous yards back.

"Hardly. Wait!" The man stops walking and the girl walks right into his back.

"You said to wait." The girl shakes her head and slips her hand into her messenger bag, feeling around one of the small pockets on the inside for the item she so desperately hoped was there.

"Got it!" She pulls out a small flashlight and flicks it on. A dim beam of light shoots out of the tiny device and she hears the man next to her sigh. "And where's your flashlight?"

"Up my ass," he quickly replies. "Now shine that pathetic thing forward."

The girl complies and the two start walking again. The only noise between them is the slapping of the girl's bare feet against the hard floor. Their pace slows as the girl staggers along, her aching legs protesting each stride she forces. It isn't long until the she breaks the silence. "Up your ass, huh?" she jokes, trying to take her mind off the pain. "No wonder you act like a jerk."

He scoffs. "I just saved youe life more times than I can count in the last half hour I've known you," he asserts. "What the hell do you mean by 'No wonder you act like a jerk.'" He imitates her voice.

"What I mean is that- HOLY SHIT!" She almost drops the flashlight at the sight of the child. The man lets out a yelp and throws his companion behind him. A small girl stands in a hospital gown before the two. The frail child's cheeks are sunken in, their skin is comparable to the immaculate snow in the winter time. Her greasy, short blonde hair frames her hollow face, her green eyes are circled with dark bags. She looks as if she was ripped right out of a horror movie.

"Don't," the young girl whimpers.

The man reaches out to the child but she steps away. "Are you here alone?"

Blonde locks sway from side to side as the girl shakes her head. "Don't scream. That will tell 'em where we are."

"You mean-"

"-the zombies," the girl behind the man finishes. "Sweetie, we have to get you out of here."

The child shakes her head again. "I can't. _You can't. Y_ou can't take me out of here." The man takes the tiny girl by her small wrist and she squirms in his hold. "Let me go!"

"Look!" The girl shines the flashlight on the kid's skin, revealing raw, eaten flesh. "She's bit!"

The child breaks the man's hold. "Those monsters are outside the door down there. You can't get out, I already tried."

"W_e have to_," the man stresses. "My car is right in front of that entrance and once we get to it, we'll be safe. I promise."

It takes the child a few moments to process the words. She looks down at her wound and slowly nods. "You have to run really quick to your car, okay?"

He confirms with a nod. The older girl steps forward, leading the little group towards the exit as the two behind her join hands. The moans of the dead become more prominent as they close in on the door.

"Can I tell you something," the young one whispers, squeezing the man's hand.

"What is it?" he replies.

They walk a few more steps in silence before the child says another word. "My name is Gabriel. G-A-B-R-I-E-L."

"Hey," the girl in front waves the light on the door. "Get ready."

"Don't forget me, okay?" And with that, the child lets go of the man's hand and busts through the door. The two left behind stare at the child's back as she runs through the zombie infested entrance. The zombies gather around her and trap their prey.

"GABRIEL!" The man shouts.

The older girl wraps her arms around his torso to keep the man from diving in to save the kid. "We have to go!"

"But-"

"She did that to save us! Now, c'mon! We have to go!" The man looks down at the girl encircling his body with her arms, her brown eyes wild with alarm. He nods and the two run for it. As they pass the horde, they try to ignore the excruciating human screams. Fresh flesh is woven through the fingers of the dead as they devour their meal.

A black Toyota SUV is parked across the street and the two scramble to the vehicle. After the man rips the passenger door open, he shoves the girl in and ungracefully tumbles in after, slamming the door behind him. Almost hysterically, he climbs over her and hoists himself behind the wheel. He pulls a lanyard out of his jacket pocket and jams the correct key into the ignition. The lights come on and the car roars to life. The man slams his foot down on the gas pedal and they're speeding forward. The girl looks into the side mirror and watches as the 'UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN' sign behind them disappears.

* * *

They drive through the city for a few miles before either of them speaks. It is the girl, once again, who takes the initiative.

"Thank you."

He turns his head the slightest but keeps his eyes on the road. He licks his pale lips and opens his mouth. "Sure."

"I'm Victoria." He nods. Silence fills the air and she crosses her arms. "And what about you?"

"What about me?"

"What's your name?"

The man raises his eyebrows in mild interest. He takes his right hand off the wheel and digs into the front pocket of his jeans, taking out a worn, black leather wallet. "Here," he holds it out to her. Hesitantly, Victoria takes and slowly opens it, eyeing the I.D. displayed: Levitt James Hughes. 22. Organ donor.

"Virginia license?" She asks. Her index finger glides over the protective cover and lingers over the picture of my her newly-named companion. Dark, hard eyes look back at her. "What are you doing out here in Michigan?"

He snatches the wallet from her hands and shoves it back into his pocket. "You ask a lot of questions," he irritatedly remarks.

She rolls her eyes and turns her head to look out my window. "I'm riding around with a stranger."

An airy chuckle escapes Levitt and he shrugs. "Alright. Well, my family's from Michigan. I grew up here and moved to Virginia for my job. I only came back to find my family."

"Did you find them?"

He lifts his hand and motions to the empty row of seats behind them. "Does it look like they made it?"

She shuts her mouth and sink lower into her seat, planting her eyes forward. The scenery blurs as they ride in silence for a few more miles in the empty city.

"Where are we going?" Victoria questions.

The corners of Levitt's lips pull up into a small smile. "We're getting the hell out of Michigan."

* * *

**Hope you liked the chapter! The duo has finally been given names and I really do hope you grow to like them as the story goes on! Rest assured that I plan on incorporating Levitt and Victoria into the main story. How I go about that and how long it will talk is an entirely different situation. But please continue to read as I update! Make my day and leave a review?**


	3. Chapter 3

"There."

Levitt flexes his freshly bandaged hand and gives an approving nod. "Thanks." He places the hand back on the wheel and the awkward silence between the two returns. Victoria watches him for a while more, waiting for him to try to engage in conversation. It doesn't happen. She gives up and sighs, quietly putting items back into the medical bag at her feet. She had spent the last couple of miles tending to their wounds and the man beside her had hardly given her a second glance. If they were gonna travel together from now on, they had to get along, right?

"You know," Victoria mumbles as she leans her head against the headrest of her seat. "I used to like road trips. This one-," She rolls her eyes and rests them on her grumpy companion. "-not so much."

Levitt grunts in response and runs a hand over his face. He's exhausted. "Maybe that's because this isn't a road trip. In case you've been living under a rock for the past -well, I don't know, _nine months_- we're in the middle of a fucking zombie apocalypse. Let's face the facts now, shall we? Life is _never_ going to be easy, we're always going to have to look over our shoulder from now on. Oh! And there's always a good possibility we're gonna die soon." The brunette beside him mutters something under her breath. "You mind saying that again? Loud enough for me to hear this time?"

"I said," she fumes. "A closet. I've been living in a utility closet for the past nine months." She pulls her legs up onto the seat and rests her arms on her knees. Almost immediately does Levitt swat her on the side.

"Nuh-uh. No." His index finger points to the dirty floor mat. "Feet. Down."

"You've gotta be kidding." Putting on her most offended expression, she grudgingly plants her feet back down. "The world's gone to shit and you're getting on me for putting my feet up?"

"Yes." Victoria groans and looks at the road. Levitt drives the SUV down the highway, weaving past deserted cars and stray zombies. Hung from the rear-view mirror, a red beaded rosary swings back and forth in the air. The windows are down and the wind runs through every strand of their hair. The sun shines down through the windshield and warms the skin of Victoria's exposed legs.

"You got any food?" Victoria wonders aloud.

Levitt gives her a side glance and bobs his head. "In the back." He takes his foot off the gas pedal and the car slowly comes to a stop.

Victoria turns her head and gazes towards the back of the car. A blanket covers a mound of items, hiding them."I could've just climbed over the seats and-"

"There's no way I'm gonna let you ruin my car." Levitt opens his door and walks around the SUV, popping the back door open.

Victoria stays in her seat for a moment. "Asshole," she quietly swears.

She climbs out and joins Levitt at the trunk. He holds the blanket that covered the back and Victoria's eyes widen at the piles of supplies he has stocked up. Placed against the back row of seats are multiple cases of first-aid kits, stacked upon one another in neat columns. A collection of guns, bigger than the bag Levitt brought to the hospital, is pushed to the side and leans against the window. There's literally too many gallons of gasoline to count, enough to last them across the country if they pleased. A pair of suitcases are neatly filed in between crates filled to the brims with canned goods and other foods her body craved.

"Go ahead and pick what you want," Levitt offers. Victoria reaches out but Levitt catches her hand. "Just remember that we need to make this last."

Victoria nods and grabs the first thing she can get her hands on: a sleeve of crackers. Never before had she ripped open a package of food and shoved so much into her mouth. She closes her eyes as she chews, savoring the saltiness on her tongue. She doesn't even bother to swallow what is already in her mouth before she's putting more crackers in. Levitt watches the girl eat as if it's the last meal she'll ever have. In minutes, half of the crackers are consumed. Levitt shrugs it off and grabs one of the suitcases that are wedged in the back. The zipper glides across the line and Levitt lifts the top.

"Here." He pulls out a gray knitted sweater and holds it out towards Victoria. A smirk finds a way onto his face as he looks at the wide-eyed girl with chipmunk cheeks filled with food. She takes the piece of clothing into one hand and scans over it.

"_Iph vis fows?"_ She tries to speak. Levitt furrows his eyebrows in confusion. She chews and then quickly swallows the food in her mouth. "Is this yours?"

"Yeah?"

She nods. "O-kay," she carries out the ending. "Then...I guess I'll change at the side of the car. Don't be creepy and, like, look." She walks off and tries to switch clothes as quickly as possible. Footsteps emerge from the side and she covers her body with her arms. "I said don't- Oof!" Another article of clothing hits her square in the face and lands in her arms.

"Thought you'd need some pants too," Levitt chuckles. He goes back to the trunk and Victoria shimmies out of her dirty clothes even quicker than before. She leaves her undergarments on and pokes her head through the hole of the sweater. She can feel the excess material hanging off of her body, the hem of the shirt dangling almost mid thigh. She holds up the jeans Levitt gave her and begins to put it on, doing a little dance while yanking them to her waist. The ends of the legs pool past her feet and drag against the ground.

"You got anything smaller?" No response. "Levitt?"

"Get in the car." With a loud smack, Levitt's hand hits the side of the car. "_Get in. Now._"

Victoria obediently opens the back passenger door. "What's going-"

"You get in the car and you stay down, alright? Do not make any sound. _Any._ There's a small gun in the glove compartment. Just listen to me and stay hidden."

Realizing the urgency in Levitt's voice, she complies. She hoists herself in and closes the door as softly as she can, locking it just in case. After a deep breath, she reaches over and opens the glove compartment. Just as Levitt had said, inside lies a small handgun. She's hesitant to take it. The weapon is already intimidating, almost deadly to look at. Levitt slams his hand against the car again and Victoria knows she has to act fast. She grabs the gun and takes off the safety. Lowering herself to the floor of the car, she holds the gun with a death grip and closes her eyes. She tells herself to calm down but her body goes against her wishes, her heart pounds harder and her breathing becomes uneven.

Tires screech against the asphalt and Victoria has to put a hand over her mouth to keep silent. A door opens and closes, rigid footsteps follow.

"Well, hello there." It's a man's voice, thick southern accent and deep tone.

"Hello, sir. How ya doin'?" Levitt mimics the man's accent perfectly.

"Good, good." A low chuckle. "And yourself?"

"Well, sir."

"That's good. That's real good. Say, wasn't there a girl with ya here?"

Pause. "No, sir. I ain't got no girl with me." Levitt laughs. "Sure would be nice, huh?"

The man joins in on the laughter. "Yeah, yeah. But uh, I coulda sworn there was a girl."

A little too quickly does Levitt reply, "Already said I ain't got no girl with me."

"Alright, alright. Ya ain't got no girl with ya. Sorry. Guess that means yer alone?"

"Yes, sir."

"Must need some supplies then, right? I got some medicine, food, some blankets. I even got gas in the bed of my truck if ya want."

"I'll be fine, sir."

"Ya sure? Yer young. Growin' kid like ya needs to eat."

"I'm fine, sir."

"But ya need the food if ya'll wanna live."

"I already told ya, ain't no girl-"

"How 'bout I just give it all to ya? Ya just need to do me a favor in exchange." No reply. "C'mon. Got a bunch of stuff to keep ya going for weeks."

"And what's the catch?" Levitt suspiciously grunts.

The man slowly cackles. "Ya just gotta shoot me dead, son. Right here, right 'tween the eyes."

"Fuckin' crazy, old man. Take ya stuff and-"

A gun is cocked. "Ain't rocket science, boy. Not like I'm askin' a lot from ya. Like ya said, I'm an old man. I ain't gonna last in this world much longer."

"But ya don't want to kill yourself?"

"That's a mortal sin, son. Didn't ya go to church?"

"I did," Levitt snaps. "But look where Jesus landed the both of us. Yer askin' me to kill ya while you got that gun pointed to my face.

"Just take the god damn gun and sh-"

Blood splatters everywhere and the man falls face down into the road. Levitt looks back and stares at the girl still holding the smoking gun up in her hands. Her elbows lean against the open car window as she stares at the still body she had just shot.

"What the fuck?"

Victoria turns her attention to the stunned man before her. "He was pointing a gun at you."

"I told you to stay down!" His usual accent comes back. "You don't know that man! He could have easily just pointed that gun at you and shot you instead!"

"But he didn't!" Victoria fights. "Why are you so angry? I just saved you!"

"Why am I mad? Because he could have-" Levitt pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance. "Just- just get out here and help me get the stuff from his car and load it in, alright?"

Not wanting to frustrate him any further, she nods and gets out of the SUV. The two take their time transferring their new supplies into Levitt's car, carefully avoiding the newly deceased body. Levitt closes the back door with more force than is necessary and jogs into the drivers seat. He revs up the engine and switches the gear into drive.

* * *

It isn't until they're at least 100 miles from the incident that a word is spoken.

"You're not mad, are you?"

Levitt puts the vanity mirror down to shield his eyes from the setting sun. "I'm not mad. I'm just a little...annoyed. You tell someone to do something and they do the exact opposite. It'd annoy you, wouldn't it?" Victoria bites her bottom lip and puts her hands in her lap. "Wouldn't it?"

"Look, I'm sorry but you told me where the gun was so I assumed-"

"That gun was to protect yourself," he raises his voice. "Just 'cause I tell you where a gun is doesn't mean I want you to kill someone with it!"

Victoria sighs and buries her face in her hands. "I really just killed someone." She shakes her head and allows her woes to pool into her palms.

Levitt glances at his companion next to him, bent over and utterly broken. With uncertainty, he places a hand on her back, letting it linger there and then slowly patting her gingerly. "Please- god, please don't fucking cry. I can't handle it when girls cry."

Her body rocks up and down and she weeps. Each one of her staccato breaths makes Levitt hold in his own. With one hand on the wheel and the other on Victoria's back, he heaves out a long sigh; he's completely defeated. He begins to count the signs on the side of the road to take his mind off the situation. One. Two. Thee. It isn't until he hits 27 that Victoria sits back up.

He takes a chance and looks at her. At the same time does Victoria turn and the two make eye contact. Levitt has to keep himself from shuddering at the sight of her puffy, damp eyes and her sunken pout. He gives her one last pat on the back and retracts his arm.

Victoria opens her mouth to say something but nothing comes out immediately. "I-I'm sorry you had to s-s-see that," she croaks. She wipes her eyes and hangs her head.

"Don't worry about that... You okay?"

She nods. They go back to traveling in silence. Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine.

"It's kinda funny, isn't it?" An out of place giggle fills the car. Levitt relishes the sound, elated that something's replaced the tension.

"What is?" He asks.

"I can only be of help when you're in a life-or-death situation."

It's his turn to laugh. "Right now, every day is a life-or-death situation." She nods in agreement. "But can I ask you why that is? How you're only in killer-mode when I'm in danger, that is."

"I think," she slowly begins. "I-I guess... I don't really know. I mean... the world is already filled with so many ways to die. I want to keep my killings to a minimum. I don't want to pull the trigger unless absolutely necessary." She lifts her head and meets Levitt's gaze. "Does that make sense?"

"It does." He slows down, steers the car to the side of the road, and puts the car in park. "I think we should call it a day. I'll take watch first."

The sky has noticeably darkened, hints of rosy pinks and blushing violets are still visible. Levitt reclines his seat back a bit and places his hands behind his head. Victoria shortly copies his actions and lets her eyelids flutter until she falls under.

* * *

"-ria. Victoria?"

Victoria rubs her eyes and peeks through her right eye. Outside the window is dark, it must be the middle of the night. "Levitt?"

"You want a gun?"

Although groggy, she shakes her head almost immediately. "You said you were gonna be on watch first, right? Is it my turn?"

"No." He turns his body towards her and eyes her incredulously. "But you trust me?"

"I do," she replies with a small nod. She gives him a small smile and sits up.

The only thing Levitt can do is stare back at her while she wears that innocent smile on her face. In her, he sees what this dark world needed: trust. Hope. He shakes his head and lets the thought wither from his mind.

"You must be really stupid." He looks out the window into the night and Victoria is left, for the first time, speechless. She stares at him in complete shock but Levitt refuses to meet her eyes.

"What makes you say that?"

"Say what?" He plays dumb.

"What you said. You called me stupid."

He opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out. Instead, he licks his lips as Victoria waits with anticipation. "You trust me, someone you just met, to watch over you while you sleep?"

"I've been sleeping for hours and you haven't killed me yet."

"_Yet."_

"Yet?" she inquires. "Where are you going with this?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "Nothing, nothing. There's a lot you don't know 'bout me, sweetie."

"Then tell me."

A chuckle. "Go back to sleep." With a huff, she turns on her side and faces away from the man. "And Victoria?"

"Yeah?" she whispers.

She closes her eyes again, her heart slows. "Thanks... for saving me."

"Goodnight, Levitt."

* * *

The next time she wakes is by the sound a loud crash. Victoria shoots up in her seat and violently scans the area around her. The drivers door is left ajar, Levitt no where in sight. She quickly gets out of the car and searches for her companion. "Levitt," she calls, unsure whether or not to scream or to stay hidden. "Lev-"

A hand covers her mouth and she becomes still with fear. She tries to yell but someone shushes her. "Do _not_ scream." Once recognizing the voice, she unwinds.

Her hand clamps over Levitt's and she takes it off her face. "Don't do that!" she nearly shrieks, smacking him on the arm. Levitt brings his index finger to his lips, gesturing for her to be quiet. Levitt looks out toward the woods on the side of the highway and Victoria follows his gaze. Smoke emerges from above the treetops and trails in wispy trains into the atmosphere.

"We gotta go. Some military chopper just crashed and they shot the-"

"-swear I just head a scream over here." The two freeze at the unfamiliar voice. Levitt brings the two to the ground and they scramble backwards deep into shrubs, concealing them from view.

Another foreign voice answers. "You're sure?"

"Yeah. It sounded like a girl's scream."

Victoria leans against Levitt's chest, each beat of his heart pounding against her back. He feels her anxiety rise and quickly places his hand over her mouth again, his other hand squeezing hers.

"If you're sure," the second man mumbles. "Find them and kill them."

* * *

**So sorry for the late update! Writer's block has gotten to me already so I apologize for the weak chapter. I've been brainstorming ideas on how to incorporate Levitt and Victoria into the main story so if you have any ideas, I'd love to hear them! I really do hope you guys are enjoying this story and that you're growing to like the characters just as much as I am. Thanks so much for continuing to read and for the lovely reviews and alerts and whatnot :) Make my day and leave a review?**


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